


Interlude the First: Date Night

by ChasingRabbits



Series: Stranger Things 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Gabriel, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, M/M, POV Gabriel, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After maybe kind of asking Sam out and then proceeding to go on a could-be-but-might-not-be-date, things get a little heated in the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude the First: Date Night

Okay, so having Sam in the apartment is a lot nicer than Gabriel anticipated. He hasn’t woken up next to another person for a long, long time, and he sure as hell hasn’t come home to anyone other than his socially estranged brother in even longer.

Sam spends most of his days reading, though Gabriel can tell he wants to do more.  As far as he can tell, Sam is one of those painstakingly practical people. He probably knows how much he has in his bank account down to the cent, which, to someone like Gabriel, who spends often and lavishly, seems so unrealistically sane.

But tonight is Gabriel’s first night off in forever, and he intends on making the most of it.  He steps into the apartment to find Sam sitting on the floor, Thor on his lap and his computer in front of him. Gabriel smiles and sinks to his knees, wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulder and kisses him below the ear.

“Heya, Sammy-boy,” he greets.

“Hey,” Sam replies, a grin stretching over his handsome face. “Thor is helping me look for a job.”

“Mm, he is a pretty good character reference,” Gabriel hums. “You know he got his MBA last year?”

“You don’t say,” Sam laughs.

That is a damn nice laugh.

“So, I’m off tonight,” Gabriel begins, not sure why the words are coming out so slowly, so deliberately. “You wanna hang out? Maybe go grab some grub, catch a flick?”

Sam stills slightly, then cranes his head to look back at him.

“I really shouldn’t go out or do anything until I’m gainfully employed, y’know?” he reasons.

“My treat,” Gabriel threads his fingers through Sam’s soft hair.

“Man, I can’t let you do tha--ow!” Sam elbows Gabriel in the ribs. “Don’t pull my hair.”

“I thought you liked that,” Gabriel teases back.

“Not when I’m not sucking your dick, I don’t,” Sam sticks his tongue out. Gabriel licks him in retaliation, and Sam squirms, laughing.

“Hey, I can afford to buy you dinner and take you to a movie,” Gabriel reassures. “Whaddya say, kid. Lemme take you out?”

Sam looks him up and down, hazel eyes calculating, before he asks, “Like a date?”

Unsure of how to respond, Gabriel resorts to bouncing his eyebrows.

After another moment of thought, Sam smiles, “Okay. Let me get my shoes on.”

It’s not until then that Gabriel realizes that his palms are sweating, that watching Sam get up and slip on his weird laceless shoes makes his stomach tie up in knots.

_Oh, goddamn it._

He likes this little twerp, doesn’t he? Playground, dip-your-pigtails-in-ink, second grader _like_ -likes him. It’s of course when he’s in the middle of this thought that Sam looks back at him. Rather than ask, he gives Gabriel a lopsided grin and crouches beside him.

“Need help up?”

“Ha-ha,” Gabriel sneers.

“So, you’re taking me to dinner… where’s the nearest Marie Callender’s?” Sam asks. “I saw some coupons in the paper. You know you can get endless soup and salad for only eight dollars?”

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?”

“Tell me more stories about the war, grandpa,” Sam cracks his voice, then laughs when Gabriel jabs him in the side. He stands up ( _without_ Sam’s help, thank you) and puts Thor back into his crate.

“Daddy will be back in a little bit, nug,” Gabriel coos through the metal grid. “Who’s daddy’s little nugget? Are you? Is that you? Are you daddy’s little nugget?”

“Jeez, you taking me out or him?” Sam delivers, dry, and Gabriel turns to give him a look.

“Well, he’s a hell of a lot cuter than you, so,” he returns with a shrug, and Sam snorts.

There’s no pomp or fancy dressing on tonight. Neither of them is persnickety like that in any case, but damn if Gabriel doesn’t wonder if he _should_ be trying a little harder.

Luckily, that part of his brain is meek and mealy mouthed in comparison to the part that drags Sam into an arcade-and-pizza place. They play a few rounds of games before their pizza is ready, then coat their insides with grease and melted cheese until they’re fit to burst.

Sam, bless him, is neither surprised nor judgmental when he sees the amount of candy that Gabriel purchases at the theater despite this fact.

It’s good to know that hanging out with Sam is easy when they’re out and about, too. He realizes then that, christ, he actually cares about how he and Sam look when they’re together, and instantly feels like a twelve-year-old on his first date. His palms start to sweat again, and so do his pits.

Even when he shucks his top layer, he’s still unbearably hot.

“You okay?” asks Sam as they sit in the center of the theater’s back row.

“Yeah, great,” Gabriel lies, opening up his gummi bears as fast as he can. He needs something in his mouth so he doesn’t say anything stupid. He’s especially gifted when it comes to saying stupid shit at the worst time. And dates? Gabriel is the goddamned Michael Phelps of fucking up dates with his big mouth.

This isn’t even a date, though… is it? He’d kind of evaded answering that, and Sam had sort of evaded clarifying. Maybe establishing some firmer boundaries would have been a good idea.

The lights dim as the previews start to roll. Being that they’re seeing some mindless action flick (not the dopey comedy Gabriel wanted to see, but not the compelling indie bullshit that Sam was hoping for either), most of the previews are wrought with haggard, sweaty-faced rugged manly-men, dramatic music, and gravelly voices.

Midway through the third preview, Sam leans over and whispers, breath warm in Gabriel’s ear, “Can I have some gummis?”

Gabriel looks over, cocks an eyebrow and looks Sam up and down.

“What happened to ‘I can’t eat anymore I’ll explode’?” he asks.

“My stomach grew,” Sam offers, then holds out his hand. Gabriel plops the bag into his hand and settles back in his chair. Sam shakes a few into his hand and, following Gabriel’s lead, settles back too.

Sam spreads out here just like he does back at the apartment. He gives his long legs the most space that he can, his thigh knocking into Gabriel’s as a result.

“I’m putting up the armrest,” he whispers then, and suddenly the only barrier between them is gone, and it’s exactly like being on the couch back home, but it can’t end in a righteous bout of fucking like it normally does.

Which is a shame, because it would be very easy right now to reach over and undo Sam’s pants, and, knowing what a kinky little shit Sam could be, probably very easy to get him off right there in a theater full of people.

Gabriel jumps when Sam drops the gummi bears back into his lap.

“You okay?” Sam asks again, this time with a smile on his dumb puppy dog face.

“Fine,” Gabriel shrugs. “Great. Best I’ve ever been. Better bottle up this day and take a hit off it next time I’m down.”

Sam laughs and--oh lord--drapes his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders.

Ohh _boy_.

But it doesn’t go any further.

For the first half hour of the movie, Sam just keeps his arm around Gabriel. Occasionally he’ll bring his fingers up to stroke through Gabriel’s hair, or tickle the back of his neck with his fingernails, but that’s it. No kissing, no groping, just… contact. It’s all a wicked combination of affectionate and boner-inducing, and it ends with Gabriel adjusting the front of his jeans, then scooting close enough so that he’s nudged all the way up against Sam.

For as much as he dislikes the notion of getting touchy-feely, with Sam it’s not so bad. It’s sort of soothing, actually.  

Apparently Sam thinks so too, because the next thing Gabriel knows, they’re both being poked awake by a young usher.

“What the fuck,” Gabriel sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Sam stretches out as far as the small space will allow.

“Sorry to disturb you,” says the usher. “It’s just that we have to clean up the theater now.”

Gabriel looks back at Sam.

“You ready to go, stretch?”

“Sure thing, _pardner_ ,” Sam drawls back, smiling.

Cheeky little fuck.

“What I don’t understand,” says Gabriel as they leave the theater, “Is how the fuck we managed to sleep through the loudest movie in the damn theater.”

Sam doesn’t actually respond to the question, just pulls Gabriel in by the front of his shirt and kisses him right there on the street.

_Well, then._

But it’s over just as quickly as it started, and Gabriel finds himself, for the too-manyenth time since knowing Sam, unable to snap off some witty retort.

It’s disturbing.

“Thanks for tonight,” Sam says as they start walking back toward the apartment building. “It was really fun.”

“Even when that clown popped up in your shooting game?” Gabriel teased back, his snark finally returning. It was a little hard to forget such a large guy ducking down so far, just to avoid a crappy CGI clown.

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Sam points, “And second, clowns are fucking terrifying, all right? _Especially_ when they pop up out of nowhere.”

They bitch at each other all the way back to the apartment, and to be honest, it’s fucking great. The amount of people Gabriel meets who are on his level are few and far between, and maybe he knew that he and Sam were pretty evenly matched before tonight, but he is riding the highest high ever to have highed right now, and it makes Sam seem like he’s about the best person in the world.

“For the record,” says Gabriel as they stomp up the stone steps, “I had fun too. You’re a cool cat, Winchester.”

Sam smiles.

Gabriel doesn’t know what he expects to happen when they both get in the front door, he just knows that it’s a delightful surprise when Sam pushes them inside and pins him up against the wall. The kid is strong, and he’s kind of imposing when he’s not working the whole oversized golden retriever angle, but Gabriel can’t deny the surge of need that crawls up his spine when Sam yanks him up and mashes their mouths together.

He drops his keys on the floor in favor of grabbing onto Sam. Suddenly nothing seems more important.

Only, Thor then starts yipping from his crate, and both Sam and Gabriel pull away from one another. Swallowing a big lump in his throat, Gabriel touches back down to earth and goes to investigate. The poor little guy hates being in his crate when there are people around, so Gabriel bends over to let him out.

He doesn’t even get the thing closed back up again before Sam grabs him by the hips and yanks him back.

“Man, you are frisky tonight, Sammy-boy,” Gabriel turns, only to have Sam back him against the counter.

“I was gonna suck your dick at the theater once all the explosions started going off,” Sam admits. “But we fell asleep.”

“Jesus!” Gabriel laughs as Sam hoists him up by his thighs and deposits him on the kitchen counter.

See?

And now, with their heights a little more evened out, Sam latches onto Gabriel’s neck. He starts off slow, with gentle scrapes of his teeth over patches of sensitive of skin. There can’t be any permanent marks on his neck, because of work, but little nips will fade by the time his next shift starts.

"Wanna fuck you," Sam murmurs into his skin. "Right here."

Gabriel groans, shamelessly arching into him because hells yeah, he will fuck Sam right here, right now. And, with the way the heel of Sam’s hand rubs nice and firm against his dick, it looks like they’re headed there at warp speed.

“Thank god, ‘cause I’ve had a semi since the fucking movie theater,” Gabriel then gasps as Sam pulls aside his shirt collar and bites down. It hurts--not enough to warrant anything harsher than a soft _“Shit, Sam”_ , but he’ll definitely still feel it tomorrow.

The more Sam presses against him, the harder Gabriel gets. No duh, but given the fact that a week ago he’d only had the internet and his right hand for company, every single touch still feels incredible.

And Sam might be able to hack receiving, but when he’s the one doing the giving he’s like a kid in a damn candy store. He has to know every little thing, leave no erogenous zone unexplored, has to know every little sound he can coax out of you. He can’t curb the urge to touch, to taste, and Gabriel is more than willing to let him indulge in every last one of his hedonistic desires.

“Fuck,” Sam breathes then and pulls back to look Gabriel in the eye. “Lube’s all the way in the bedroom.”

“Then shut your cryptid apeman mouth and go get it, ‘squatch,” Gabriel whispers back, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Christ, you’re so weird,” Sam shakes his head, but it’s on the end of a smile and accompanied by a sharp nip to his chin. “Take off your pants.”

Gabriel barks a laugh as Sam nearly trips over his feet, dashing out of the kitchen as fast as he does. It’s a little difficult to get his pants off while he’s sitting up on the counter, though, and by the time Sam returns he’s only got them about halfway down his thighs. Thankfully, this does nothing to deter him. Sam still comes forward and crushes their mouths back together, still yanks Gabriel’s head back by his hair and bites--

“Neck,” Gabriel manages to remind him.

“Shit, sorry,” Sam breathes, and moves instead to ruck Gabriel shirt up under his arms. He can mark up all the skin he wants under there.

Then Sam wraps his hand around Gabriel’s dick and, fuck yeah, that’s definitely fair game too. He licks his thumb, presses it against the slit, squeezes until an ooze of precome drools out and slides down his shaft.

“Wicked,” Gabriel huffs, shaking his head. “Wicked, wicked man.”

Sam hums an affirmation before he pulls back and fully divests Gabriel of his pants. Even though he’s still fully clothed, he’s flushed. He’s got that wild look in his eyes, like you’re not sure whether this guy is gonna fuck you or kill you.

It looks like he could do either just as easily as the other.

Shit, you’d think the kid had been doing this all his life, the way he so easily pumps lube onto his fingers, how, despite being all teeth and roughhousing, he still manages to have a careful way of plunging his fingers into Gabriel just right.

And once he hits that spot? Forget it.

Gabriel is nearly horizontal on the counter, the unplugged toaster digging into his side and the hard surface rough on his elbows and spine. He should tell Sam to move them but… but anywhere else it might not feel this good. Anywhere else he might not be rock hard and dribbling a trail of slick wet onto his belly.

Plus, this way he can see how pleased Sam is at the sight of Gabriel all spread out and looking like something of a two-dollar whore.

He doesn’t care. As long as Sam can get him revved up and ready to go like this, that smug, wonderfully talented little bastard can look at him any way he wants.

But little Sammy Winchester doesn’t stay smug for too long. He only barely works a third finger into Gabriel, all slippery and shaking with his still-contained arousal.

Sam pulls his fingers out and feverishly undoes his belt, the fly of his pants, and pulls his cock out. Dark red, shiny, and obviously pissed off at being ignored for so long… Gabriel kinda feels bad for the little guy.

Not _little_.

Sam tears a condom out of its wrapper and rolls it onto his dick, making sure it’s secure before he tugs Gabriel forward and nudges up against his hole. Even with a generous amount of lube, it’s still a little rough. Gabriel can do rough, though. Openly pansexual for eleven years and a well practiced hedonist, he knows a thing or two about toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

Sam sinks the last inch or so into him and, the moment their faces are close enough, snags Gabriel’s lower lip in his teeth. Then he pulls out, and thrusts back in so hard and fast that Gabriel swears he can feel it in the back of his throat.

“Fucker,” Gabriel wheezes.

“Shut up,” Sam repeats the same action, and Gabriel lets out a noise that’s all manner of embarrassing. As Sam sets a pretty brutal pace, Gabriel’s hands fly up to the medicine cabinet, bracing him so fucking He-Man doesn’t send him through the goddamned wall.

He can feel the sweat forming on his skin as his body gets worked so many ways at once, can tell that he’s flushed and probably all dewy-eyed to boot.

God, can’t he have one time--one goddamned time--that Sam fucks him and he _doesn’t_ look like he just tumbled out of a hentai video?

“Mm, _fuck_ ,” he pants. “Gotta move. Arm -- _fuck!_ \-- _ah_ -arm cramp.”

With great restraint, Sam pulls out and guides Gabriel to the kitchen table, bends him over the rickety surface and pushes back inside. However, when Gabriel lets out a long, throaty groan of approval and tries to crane his head back for a kiss, Sam pushes him back down.

Shoulders pinned under Sam’s hands, Gabriel has no choice but to scratch at the tabletop and enjoy the ride.

And a hell of a ride it is.

Pressure starts to build and muscles once again start to cramp. The table legs screech over the hard linoleum, but Gabriel can’t hear it over the blood pounding in his ears and the orgasm curling at the base of his spine, waiting for the right moment. His mind starts to blank out, his body falling into an involuntary rhythm as he tries to get more Sam as deep as he can get him.

All other needs become secondary, tertiary. As long as Sam angles into him _right_ there _just like that_ , he’ll survive.

Sam must be getting close too; he leans down, yanks Gabriel’s head to the side, and (that little _fucker_ ) gives him a love bite right under the ear.

Naturally, that’s when Gabriel’s orgasm slams into him, and he shoots a metric fuckton of come all over the floor. Sam finishes soon after, nibbling at the knob at the top of Gabriel’s spine as he gets in a last couple of good thrusts.

And although he’s just been fucked within an inch of his life, and his muscles are sore and his brain is drying up on the floor, Gabriel has that loose feeling in his limbs and that lightness in his chest.

Maybe it’s even better when he realizes that Sam has gone from biting and grunting and snarling to kissing and nuzzling and humming his satisfaction.

“You okay?” Sam asks, combing his fingers through Gabriel’s hair.

“Is that a serious question?” Gabriel pants back. “I can barely feel my goddamned legs.”

Sam laughs warm and thick against him, “Ditto. Hot damn.”

Gabriel lets himself relax, while Sam busies himself with kissing his sweaty nape and soothing his tongue all over the marks he’s made.

Then they hear a door open, and Sam and Gabriel have about six seconds to straighten up and pretend that there wasn’t just an unholy amount of kitchen sex that just went down. Castiel, with his giant headphones clapped over his ears, doesn’t even look up right away. However, when he does, he sees Gabriel yanking up his pants and Sam disposing of a used condom.

He sees this, blinks, and turns right back around.

His door shuts, and Sam and Gabriel bust up into delirious peals of laughter, leaning on one another so neither collapses on his jelly legs.

It’s by far the best Gabriel has felt in a long, long time.


End file.
